


Hero's Welcome

by pollitt



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You might look like you ate that skinny kid from Brooklyn, but I'd know your footsteps anywhere."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero's Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for (and originally posted in the LJ of) musesfool, whose longing for more Steve/Bucky stories I also share.
> 
> Photo! Inspired by what happens after [this scene and by that look.](http://pics.livejournal.com/pollitt/pic/000sgkxc)

The downside of a thrilling rescue and a rousing, back-slapping return to base camp is that once the cheering and hand shaking and promises to tell the whole tale soon is over, the comedown is like crashing into a brick wall.

Steve had been called over to talk to Colonel Phillips and Bucky had followed the nurse and her smile to the medic tent to be poked and prodded and deemed fit for release. Now that he’s been given the A-OK, and a grunt with a clipboard has given him a (tent) roof over his head, Bucky wants to just, _Christ_ , take a hot shower and wash every memory of that damn facility off of his skin. But he settles for heating water. He's staring at the sterno and waiting for the first hints of steam when he hears the fabric of the tent shift and the sound of someone stepping inside.

"You might look like you ate that skinny kid from Brooklyn, but I'd know your footsteps anywhere." Bucky says, lifting one corner of his shirt. He gets just to his ribs when the pain makes him stop.

He hears Steve's exhaled laugh, and when he turns around-- the hem of his shirt lowered back to his waist--Steve's got his helmet in his hand and looks every bit that scrawny kid.

"Do you-- Would you like some help?"

Steve's walking toward him already and Bucky has a half-thought to say no, to tell Steve he's fine and doesn't need help. (It's instinct. He's spent most of his life protecting the guy, it's going to take some getting used to.) But then one of Steve's hands is on the hem of his shirt, and the other is holding onto Bucky’s bicep.

“Let me know when it hurts,” Steve says, lifting the fabric.

It does, but Bucky doesn’t say a word. He watches Steve’s face, watches Steve look at him until the fabric of his shirt breaks their eye connection. When he can see Steve again, something’s changed, he can see it in Steve’s eyes, on his face. It’s an emotion he knows in every cell of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Bucky says, taking the shirt from Steve’s balled up fist. “Only half is bruises.”

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice is barely suppressed emotion.

“I know. Every time you wouldn’t back down, every time put your stupid damn big heart out on the line.... I _know_.”

Bucky cups Steve’s face.

This might possibly be the god damn stupidest thing he could do, but James Buchanan Barnes was never the best student in school.

When Steve leans down-- _leans down_ , Bucky is still wrapping his mind around that one--when he kisses Bucky, tender and earnest, like this is something that he’s wanted to do as long as Bucky has... That’s when Bucky realizes that this was the best idea ever, because they were meant to do this. They were _made_ to do this. This kissing, and Steve’s arms around Bucky’s waist and Bucky’s arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders and neck, is as natural as breathing and right as rain, and something they should have done so long ago and as much as possible.

“Jeez, Bucky,” Steve gasps, his lips sliding from Bucky’s mouth across his scruffy cheek.

“Damn, Steve.” Bucky echoes, turning his face and brushing a kiss along Steve’s smooth jaw. He closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of leather and soap at the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Your water’s ready.”

It takes Bucky a full minute to realize what Steve’s saying. And after that, he might very well sigh as he loosens his hold on Steve.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to help with that, too?”

Steve’s smile does something stupid to Bucky’s chest. “If you’d like me too.”

“Yeah, Steve. I’d like.”

Steve picks up the clean rag from next to the sterno and dips it into the water. He squeezes out the excess water and starts to run the cloth over Bucky’s face, his jaw, over his ear. When he rinses the rag and turns back to Bucky for a second time, he stops under the weight of Bucky’s gaze.

“Hi Bucky,” Steve says and blushes.

“Hi Steve.” Bucky smiles.


End file.
